Welcome To The Occupation
by MegalegU
Summary: One-shot. "Sneaking a glance around the room he was in, he quickly wiped his forehead with his sleeve, praying to God that it wouldn't stain. Slowly, he turned around a corner and was face-to-face with his archenemy, Clinton Jones."


**Title: Welcome To The Occupation (Cold War Kids song title)**

**Pairings: None**

**Warnings: Very slight mentions of violence, some mild swears, nothing worse than what you would see on the show.**

* * *

><p>Neal Caffrey could feel the bead of sweat slowly drip down his forehead and onto his collared shirt. It was a taunt, that bead of sweat. A sign of weakness. Neal Caffrey was not weak; he was a strong, confident, con-man, one of the best in New York City. In the entire state, even. He'd <em>allegedly <em>forged hundreds of paintings, but this was not like forging a painting. Forging a painting took time and finesse, patience and confidence. Right now, the only thing he had was confidence, and even that was slimming, mostly because of the damn _sweat. _Sneaking a glance around the room he was in, he quickly wiped his forehead with his sleeve, praying to _God _that it wouldn't stain. Slowly, he turned around a corner and was face-to-face with his archenemy, Clinton Jones.

"Jesus," he breathed, immediately drawing up his gun. He could feel the sweat starting to make his palm slippery, and he tightened his grip, refusing to back down.

"Caffrey," Jones greeted, raising his own gun. He stared at him hard with his brown eyes, but it was certainly less threatening since the room was so dark. He inched a little closer, and Neal raised his gun higher, hoping that was enough to keep the man at bay.

"I wouldn't, if I were you." Neal kept his voice steady. _Get your head in the game, Caffrey, _he could practically hear Peter's scolding voice.

"I would!"

Both of the men turned around and were met with their fates:

Diana Barrigan fired off two rapid shots from her gun before sprinting off.

"Damn it!" Neal groaned, as his plastic vest vibrated. He looked down at the small screen on his plastic gun: _You have just been hit by _NAPALM.

Jones took one look at the younger, perfectly coiffed man, said, "Guess you're not as good at laser tag as you are at forging, Caffrey," before taking off after Diana.

Neal sullenly waited for his gun to re-load.

* * *

><p>From across the darkened room, the older man could barely pick him out through the strobe lights and he could only concentrate so hard with the thumping bass of Dubstep being blared out over the loudspeakers.<p>

"Neal!" Peter Burke hissed. "Get over here!" he beckoned with his plastic gun, only feeling slightly less ridiculous since Mozzie and Neal had concocted the scheme during breakfast. It had been a pretty slow day at the bureau, and no mortgage frauds had turned up, no paintings had been forged, no jewelry stolen from an un-crack able safe. So, Neal had begged and pleaded with Peter.

"_Let's go play some laser tag!"_

To which Peter had promptly responded,

"What are you, seven years old?"

But, somehow, Jones and Diana had rallied for it as well, and suddenly _Mozzie _was at the office, which he never allowed himself to be at, and even El took the day off to follow in this ridiculous charade. Somewhere along the line, Jones had begged for a partner in the game, and Mozzie had persuaded June into it, by offering coffees on him at the end of the round.

So now there they were, all clad in these ridiculous plastic vests that buckled around them, clutching these plastic guns, and running around a large room with large plastic walls built inside it, like a maze. The only reason Peter was getting _any _shots in was because the other vests were lit up. Mozzie and Elizabeth were blinking blue, Jones and June red, Neal and himself green, and Diana, purple – without a partner. She had claimed she could do all the work on her own.

So far, that was proving true.

Neal slowly inched his way over. Once he crouched down next to Peter, his vest lit up green again.

"Who did you take a hit from?" Peter asked, feeling somewhat like he and his partner were in a _Die Hard _flick with the way they were talking.

"Diana." Neal rolled his eyes. "We'll attack her base. Best form of revenge."

Peter frowned. Oh, the bases. Basically strapped to the wall were squares lighting up with the team's colors, and they gave them 2,000 points each if you hit them enough to "destroy" them. Neal had managed to cleverly destroy Mozzie and El's base twice already, while Peter had taken five hits from El, who had just shrugged, smiled, and said, "Sorry, honey."

"What?" Neal straightened. "Come on, Peter, we gotta go out and win this thing!"

Peter didn't bother to roll his eyes and mutter, "It's not about winning, it's how you play the game" because honestly, he kind of cared, too. He followed Neal as they zigzagged their way in between the brown plastic shapes that adorned the room. On the way to the other side, he managed to get one on Jones and Neal got Elizabeth with a cocky smile and a half-shrug, as if to say, "All's fair."

Once they were both leaning up against another wall, Peter exhaled a deep breath and looked left, then right. At that point, he was only about 4% aware that he was acting much like a young child, instead of the..ech-hem…forty-_something _agent that he was. But it didn't matter; because the room was like a war-torn region and he and Neal were best friends, enlisted in the army, with no one left but each other and some toy guns.

"Ahh! Purple at nine o clock!" Neal felt the familiar vibration of his vest and gun being temporarily removed from power. He practically dragged Peter along with him to seek refuge.

* * *

><p>"You know, laser tag wasn't around when Peter and I first got together, and I don't think he much minds." Elizabeth Burke laughed as she and Mozzie hid behind a rock-like structure in the bass-thumping room. Despite her lack of talent at the game, she was having a blast, and Mozzie was pretty excellent with it; his awareness of any and all conspiracies had him looking both ways at every turn. He hadn't been hit yet.<p>

"Really?" Mozzie popped his head up from the structure, spotted the blinking red vests, and 'shot' both June and Jones before they could get any closer. "I thought Suit would be pretty good with this, given its all vests, guns, and cloak-and-dagger."

Elizabeth playfully rolled her eyes, knowing it was part of Mozzie's MO to speak like he did. "Yeah, well, he gets a little tense under pressure."

"Don't we all?" Mozzie grabbed her hand. "Come on, the mistress of purple is approaching."

El followed him, giggling softly.

* * *

><p>Diana Barrigan was a warrior. She was Xena, she was Cleopatra, she was Joan of Arc. She dodged every "laser" blast with finesse and skill that even she didn't know she possessed. Her only thoughts running through her mind (besides <em>eliminate, eliminate, eliminate<em>) were "damn, I'm glad I sided with Caffrey on _something_" and "I'm glad I didn't choose a partner to slow me down".

She ran in between the obstacles like she was training at a military academy. And, maybe, she was. All the stress of working for the FBI and having to file things and point guns at things had gotten a bit too repetitive. Laser tag was the perfect thing for her, something to hone in on and be able to concentrate _and _have fun at the same time. She shot her laser gun in Neal's direction – he was running like a scared puppy in his fancy loafers and three-piece-suit – but he shot back, and _bam. _

The screen on the gun said _you have just been hit by _SOOTHSAYER.

"Oh, I have," she said to herself, and chased after Neal.

* * *

><p>Clinton Jones was glad to have June as his partner, even if she barely participated, didn't even shoot her gun at anyone – which made her a complete <em>opposite <em>of a target. Even Diana refused to go after her.

(Neal was smart enough not to try and beat June – the woman who was housing him and supplying him with electricity and water and a bed).

In fact, June was pretty entertaining. She told stories about Byron, and how he would have enjoyed playing this. She'd said something about Neal and Byron making a great team – and somehow Jones knew that she meant not just in laser tag. This kind of made him tune her out a bit because he didn't want to have to hear anything that he would have to warn Peter about later.

Jones slid out from beneath yet another plastic wall, June right at his heels, and witnessed Neal and Peter, doing a back-to-back, all-out war, with Mozzie and Elizabeth getting pelted and Diana sulking as she slid behind a wall for her gun to recharge.

Just as he was about to launch two shots he was _sure _would out both Peter and Neal, a buzzer sounded overhead, and all of their vests' lost the blinking colors.

Diana pranced out the door, eager to see the scores, and everyone followed suit, Jones lingering a bit, wondering why he felt so attached to such a place that certainly wasn't meant for mid-thirties men like him. But, as he walked out into the arcade area to look at the TV screen, he realized _why _they were all there: everyone needs a break, to get away, the White Collar division (sans the white collars – save for Neal, who would never sacrifice a moment to show off a Devore) most. And Jones liked to see all of them bonding, in their own special ways:

Peter and Neal, with their almost brotherly bond, are entertaining to be around. They play off each other, smile charmingly (Neal mostly on the charm), and manage to solve crime in New York City all at the same time. Jones knows that Peter cares for Neal – though he would certainly never say it aloud – and the same for Neal.

Mozzie and Elizabeth together was almost adorable. Elizabeth was all smiles and exuberant hand gestures and expressions and Mozzie was all straight-faced, government-conspiracy-obsessed, and not cynical enough to seem too bitter to be around.

June was genuine and kind and very wise, like a grandmother, almost.

And Diana, well, she was determined and attractive, certainly, but definitely not available. Ha. Jones smiled.

They all looked up at the television.

Peter had taken the most hits, Diana had gotten the highest score, and Mozzie had the best accuracy.

* * *

><p>After some heavy rounds of playing the Terminator game (Peter and Jones got the highest scores of anyone), they all decided to head "back to the office" though Mozzie assured everyone he had put some wine in Peter's car, and Neal sat beside Peter in the front seat, and it wasn't until they were on the road that he turned to him and went, "So, most hits, huh?"<p>

"Shut up, Caffrey."


End file.
